Prosaic Chaos
by Zab Jade
Summary: It was a normal day for Simon Petrikov. He practiced a new song with his band before going home to spend time with his princess. Then he made the mistake of showing her the artifact he'd acquired on a recent trip, and his prosaic world fell into chaos...


**Prosaic Chaos**

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know sprocket is spelled sprocket, but the name of the band comes from the initials of the four members: Simon Petrikov, Regina Owens, Caleb Kennedy, and Isabelle Thatcher.

**Warning:** This fic contains some bad language.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the awesomeness that is Adventure Time. I do own three of the bands members from Sprockit, however, and the lyrics and tune for Alone in the Dark are mine. Technically, some of the lyrics from the other song are also mine, but since it's based on a pre-existing Adventure Time song, I'm not claiming it.

* * *

He'd always loved the drums. There was something primal about them, the deep thrum of sound seeming to invade his veins and set the beat for his heart. _Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum-da... ba-dum-da… ba-dum-da-ting… ba-dum-da-ting-da-dum._ The bass guitar joined in as the beat became more complex, adding its own deep thrum to the primeval voice of the drums. The whimsical notes of a violin threaded their way through the music, followed by a keyboard. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm of the music as a voice began to sing.

_The nights are dark here in the snow and ice.  
But though it's cold, I'm feeling nice.  
The stars are bright here in this place,  
And in the beauty that I see, I see your face.  
_

_All alone in the dark,  
I think of you.  
All alone in the snow,  
I think of you.  
You've left your mark  
Upon my heart.  
And when we're apart,  
I think of you._

The singer was a woman with a low, husky voice, but the lyrics were his, written out in the wilds of northern Scandinavia. It had been so cold and dark, but the stars had been achingly beautiful, twinkling in the void of space as if to remind him that while he was on the trip by himself, he wasn't really alone.

_I wander through this world seeking history.  
The wonder of a child with so much to see.  
But I love you, dear, oh I love you so.  
I always think of you, I want you to know._

Normally, she set up her vacation time so she could go on expeditions with him, but this time, a colleague had needed her to fill in as a guest speaker at a conference. He'd returned a few days before while she wouldn't return for at least another hour. She had filled his thoughts on his trip almost as much as the local landscape and the artifact he'd bought from a dock worker.

_All alone in the dark,  
I think of you.  
All alone in the snow,  
I think of you.  
You've left your mark  
Upon my heart.  
And when we're apart,  
I think of you._

_I think of you. You know, my love, I think of you._

He opened his eyes as Regina Owens – the keyboardist and lead singer of Sprockit – trailed off at the end of the song. There was a moment of complete silence before she glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Man, Simon, you need to go away by yourself more often. You always come up with the best lyrics when you're missing Betty."

Isabelle "Izzy" Thatcher, the pudgy blonde violinist and owner of the garage they were practicing in, snorted a laugh as she put away her instrument. "Yeah, right. Indiana couldn't handle being away from his princess for more than a week in a two month period." She tossed him a wink that, along with the nickname she'd given him after an Indiana Jones marathon, showed she was just teasing. "Seriously though, good song."

Simon laughed self-consciously, blushing a bit in discomfort at the praise and rubbing the back of his head with one of his drumsticks. "Heh. I guess it wasn't too bad."

"It was okay for a silly love song," the bassist grudgingly admitted. "We need some edgier material."

"It was more than okay, and you both know it, Caleb," Izzy said in annoyance. "You're just still bent out of shape because Reggie won't sing about your toe fungus or agree to rename the band."

"Toe fungus is a hardcore topic, man," Caleb Kennedy grumbled sullenly, glaring at the violinist before turning to look on Simon. "And what kind of real band starts their name with the initials of the _drummer_?"

"One that doesn't want to be called Rock Spit," Reggie replied dryly as she shook her dark chestnut hair out of its ponytail. "_And_ one that happens to have a drummer that's also a pretty good lyricist. Get over the fact that your songs suck, and stop riding Simon's ass."

"Yeah, that's Betty's job!" Izzy added with a snicker.

Simon's face turned bright red, and he briefly wondered if it would be physically possible to hide under his drum set. It didn't seem like it, so he defused the situation the way he usually did – through humor. While Caleb ranted about his ability to play the bass being a vital part of their music, Simon snagged it from him and started to play.

"You want a toe fungus song, huh? Here we go." The tune in his head fit a keyboard – or maybe even an omnichord – better than a bass guitar, but he could work with it. He took a deep breath and began to sing.

"_Athlete's foot, you're alright!  
Pit fungus, you're okay.  
Sporotrichosis could be better.  
All the fungal infections are pretty alright, but…_

"_Oh, toe fungus!  
You are really here among us!  
You have a stench!  
And that is how I know."_

Caleb growled and snatched his bass back while the two girls laughed helplessly.

"You're right, Caleb," Izzy managed between giggles. "A toe fungus song totally _is_ hardcore."

Caleb sighed in defeat and flung an arm across the shoulders of his fellow male band member. "Okay, fine, I'm being a – a – " he floundered for a moment, trying to figure out the right word.

"Mudak," Simon muttered under his breath as he jerked away from Caleb. Despite the lyrics of the silly fungus song, Caleb's armpits were _not_ okay! They smelled like someone had been passing wind in them or something worse. He glanced at his watch as he continued moving away from the bassist. "Oh, bread balls, I need to get going, or Betty is going to get back before I do."

He said a quick goodbye to his band mates before rushing off to get home in time to prepare for the arrival of his beloved princess.

* * *

"…_I think of you. You know, my love, I think of you."_

"That is so beautiful," Betty said before leaning against Simon and pressing her lips to his in a deep kiss.

He shifted slightly on the couch to wrap his arms around her, basking in the feelings of love and contentment her presence always brought. He'd known from the moment he'd first spoken to her that she was the one. It was like their souls were two different instruments that complemented each other to make glorious music. Holding her like this, he knew, with absolute certainty, that they would be together forever.

Betty pulled away from the kiss before snuggling down to rest her head on his chest. "So, how was Scandinavia? Other than cold and dark?"

Simon grinned and managed to shift enough – without dislodging her – to grab the duffle bag he'd left near the couch after his trip. "Take a look at this," he said excitedly, pulling out a jeweled crown.

She sat up more and scooched back to get a better look. "Oh, wow. Where did you find that?"

"An old dock worker sold it to me for fifty bucks. The gold and gems are real, but he claimed it's," he put the crown down on his lap and wiggled his fingers in a spooky motion, "cursed."

"Oooh, cursed," Betty repeated, poking the crown. She didn't believe in the supernatural any more than he did, but also shared his fascination for superstitious beliefs. "What's the story, Professor?"

"Supposedly, there was once a mad king obsessed with a priestess of a winter goddess. He didn't want her love, since that was a foreign concept to him – he didn't even love his son, Gunter, though he knew he should. Instead, he was obsessed with her powers of ice and snow. He demanded that she teach him the secrets of her magic.

"When she refused him, he killed her and stole her magic, using it to make this very crown. When he placed it on his head, his emotions and madness imprinted on it and mingled with the hatred the priestess had felt for him as she died. It gave him the powers of ice and snow, but it also betrayed him, denying him those powers when Gunter came to put a stop to his reign of terror.

"Gunter never wore the crown, but over time, it fell into the hands of various men looking for power and conquest. Each imprinted his psyche onto the crown, teaching it new things and deepening its madness. And one by one, it imprinted its own madness upon each new wearer before betraying them. It's said that, eventually, the crown will find its true master. It will drive him mad, but it will learn to love, and will not betray him."

"Wow," Betty breathed, her eyes huge. "That's some story."

"Yeah," Simon agreed solemnly. "I think I'm going to donate it to the museum so it can be shared with the public. And you know, to keep it safe from power mad antiquarians with bad taste in bow ties."

"You are a silly, silly man, Simon Petrikov," she said with a giggle. She reached out to poke the crown. "So, eventually this thing is supposed to learn how to love and make someone some sort of ice king?"

"Yep." He laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Of course, if I put it on, I'd probably end up as the Tweed King or something." Figuring it would get another laugh from her, he picked up the crown and put it on his head. "So, how do I lo-"

* * *

_What is this feeling? ... this feeling? Silliness. Happiness. Love. Love? What is this love? Love for the female. She is a Gunter. A Gunter. Not. Not a Gunter. Different love. Not the Gunter. Not Gunter love. Princess… cess… princess…. _

The words swirled through his brain, spoken in several different versions of the same female voice. Strange, grotesque creatures began to appear, looking like slimy, living sacks of gelatin. He cried out and fell off the couch in alarm as one of the smaller things crawled across Betty's face.

"G-get away from her!" he yelled, grabbing for the ancient dagger he kept displayed on the coffee table.

The voices tumbled through his mind, urging him on. _Must protect the princess. Kill the creature. Protect the love. Love the princess. Love. Kindness. Laughter. Silly, silly man. _The voices solidified suddenly, speaking as one for a single phrase, _we love the Simon._

As soon as his hand closed around the dagger's hilt, he lunged to his feet, flailing it at the thing on Betty's face. "I said get away from her! I won't let you hurt her!"

He distantly heard her scream as the blade passed harmlessly through the creature. She flung herself off the couch before it could cut her, but the _thing_ stayed on her face, touching her, fouling her with its slime.

_Must protect the princess,_ the voices whispered. _Love the princess. Love the Simon. The Simon is our princess? Princess, princess, princess…. No…. We will keep this one. We will teach him the ways of the ice and snow, and remake him… as our king._

This… this couldn't be real. The strange voices, the weird things… Betty was looking at him in terror and ignoring the creatures. Why would she ignore them?

"No!" he shouted suddenly, pulling the crown from his head and throwing it across the room.

* * *

Simon dropped to his knees, clutching his head. What had just happened? There had been… voices? Strange creatures? He couldn't really remember.

_I think… I think I was shouting at something. Trying to fight it. Betty!_

He quickly looked at her. She was on the floor, staring at him in shock and horror. "Betty? What?" He frowned, trying to figure out what had happened. "I put the crown on as a joke," he murmured to himself, attempting to jog his memory. Why couldn't he remember exactly what had happened? What had he said? What had he done?

Betty's expression changed to utter contempt and disgust as she got to her feet. Without a word, she turned and walked out the door.

"What… what did I do?" he whispered in distress. "Betty… princess…."


End file.
